Running Gag
by TheWaspInAWig
Summary: When Tim Drake goes missing, it's up to Nightwing and Oracle to track him down, leading them down a dark and dangerous path.
1. Chapter 1

The night air was cold and sharp, stinging Nightwing's eyes even through his mask as he patrolled the rooftops of the city he called home.

"Hey Barb, remind me to take my vacation during winter next time. Gotham in the cold _sucks_." He said, speaking to Oracle through the comm-link hidden in his ear.

"You get vacation time now?" She asked.

"No, but a man can dream." Nightwing answered, sighing as he zipped up to a ledge hanging off a nearby building. "At least things are quiet tonight. Makes freezing my ass off seem almost worth it." He reattached his grapnel gun to his belt. " _Almost._ " He scanned what alleys he could see from his vantage point, finding nothing amiss. "Still no sign of danger. How are things back at the cave?"

Dick could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "How are things _always_ at the cave? Quiet. Dark. Faint smell of guano no matter how many wipes Alfred uses." She answered snarkily. "I always forget how lonely this place gets without you guys here."

Dick raised his eyebrow. "Without us there? Isn't Tim back with you?"

"No. I thought he was out with Bruce. All his gear is gone and I haven't heard from him since this morning."

"Damn it, kid." He muttered. "Barbara, Tim wasn't supposed to be on patrol tonight, that's why Bruce and I both left. Start tracking his mask and send me the coordinates."

"Understood." A few moments of searching passed. "I've got a hit! Sending the coordinates now."

"Oh, shit." He whispered, reaching for his grapnel.

"What, what's the matter?" Barbara asked, her nerves getting the better of her.

"He's on Amusement Mile, and we both know damn well who took him there." Nightwing said, already sprinting from rooftop to rooftop towards the young Robin's signal.

"Wait, Dick, let me call Bruce, you'll get yourself killed rushing in like that!"

"There's no time for that. If I waste a single moment, I'm afraid you-know-who will get bored. And you and I both know what'll happen then."

Barbara hesitated for a moment. "You- you're right. Just get to him fast, and please be careful. I'll call Bruce right away."

"I will be. And Barb?" Dick creeped over a ledge overlooking Amusement Mile. "Tell him to hurry." He said, as he looked down and saw three, giant, blood red "HA"'s against the stark white snow on the boardwalk.

/

"Won't be long now. You'll see." Tim yelled out, struggling against the ropes lashed to his wrists. "They'll be on their way, as soon as they notice I'm gone. And if you kill me, I know they won't hold back. You're _screwed._ Big time." He continued, eyes straining to see anything in the dark building he'd woken up in. He couldn't hear anything outside. Bad sign. There was no telling how long he'd been out, and worse, he couldn't identify anything to help him figure out where he was. He pulled tighter on the ropes and tried to wriggle away to no avail.

"C'mon, at least show yourself, so I know whose butt to kick once I'm outta here."

"Hehehehe…" Tim heard raspy laughter behind him and tried to turn to find the source, but the ropes held him tight.

"Who's there?"

"As if you don't already know, _Robin~._ " The voice hissed, and Tim felt the moist heat of its breath on the back of his neck. "I've been waiting a long, long time for this. You Robins are so tricky to catch, you know. Which are you anyway? Number three? Number four? Does _he_ even care enough to count anymore?"

"You." Tim swallowed nervously.

"Me." Replied the voice. "Now, I know what you're thinking. How could he be here? They locked him up and threw away the key. Batman put him in a straitjacket. Batman stuck him in the dungeon of some asylum. Perfect little _Batman_ stopped the clown forever. Well, let me tell you, birdbrain." Sharp footsteps rang out into the empty space as a ghastly white face appeared before Tim in the darkness. "The Bat isn't as clever as he thinks he is."

Tim glared. "Joker."

"The one and only." The monstrous phantom grinned wide, wider than should have been possible for it. Its eyes were bloodshot, as though it hadn't blinked for years. Possibly worst of all was the stench of its breath, like rotting flesh assaulting Tim's nose.

"So, what, this is your wacked-up revenge plot? Taking out all that resentment on me?" Tim said through gritted teeth. "Batman's gonna break your jaw for this."

The Joker chuckled. "A good comedian never recycles material. Didn't I do that shtick already? Bring a Robin to a warehouse, beat the everloving _HELL_ out of him, and leave his mangled, bloody corpse for Batman to find? _Hahaha_!" It shook its head. "No, no, it's been done. It's old hat, it's cliche, it's predictable, but worst of all, it's _too damn easy!_ I could kill you any way I wanted right now. Maybe even break out the old crowbar, like I did with Joshua."

"His name is Jason."

"Same difference."

Tim spit, hitting the Joker in the face with a gob of saliva. This earned him a swift punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him gasping.

"As I was saying," It continued, wiping the spit off its eye with a finger, "To kill you would be too easy, and frankly, not nearly as funny. No, no, I have a different plan."

Tim laughed through wheezing breaths. "Whatever it is, it won't work. My uniform has a tracking function. He knows exactly where I am. Even if you did decide to kill me, you've already lost. He's coming."

"I'm counting on it, _twerp._ I may be a clown, but I'm no fool. Why do you think I took your mask as soon as I collected you?" The Joker said, cackling. "Oh, I know _exactly_ where your friends are headed. I just can't wait for them to find the surprises I left for them! _Hahaha!_ "

/

 **AN: To be continued in one week.**


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going in, Barb. Any word from Bruce yet?" Dick asked, climbing down a fire escape.

"He's on his way, but he's across Gotham. Every second counts right now, Dick. As much as I hate to say this, I think you need to go on without him." Oracle said, examining a map of Amusement Mile. "If I had to guess, Tim's being held in -"

"The Big Top, I know. That sick asshole wouldn't be able to resist the spectacle." Dick said, dropping from the fire escape and running toward the boardwalk, hands already clenching his escrima. "No telling what I'm walking into here, so do me a favor and keep an eye on the boardwalk for me. Make sure nobody can ambush me here, yeah?"

"Looks quiet from where I'm sitting, Dick. I'll watch your back." Barbara answered as she manipulated the security cams around the boardwalk to capture all angles they could.

"Thanks." He stood outside the Big Top, the entrance flap billowing slightly open in the chilly wind. "I'm going in. Wish me luck." He said, making his way into the huge tent, pleasantly surprised at the warmer air that filled it but finding it nearly entirely dark. He cautiously inched his way through the dark, sticks raised to strike, but nothing seemed to be in front of him.

He bumped into something about waist-high, and determined that it was the wall surrounding the performance pit. He hopped over effortlessly and landed with a soft _tap_ on the dirt of the pit.

Suddenly, he was blinded as the spotlights surrounding the pit turned on, illuminating the Big Top in violently bright light. Speakers crackled as a familiar raspy voice spoke through them.

 _"Why, if it isn't the Bat's golden boy! Did you miss me, Nightwing? Oh, what am I saying, of course you did! I bet the Bat was inconsolable while I was gone."_

Nightwing shielded his eyes, adjusting to the intense light. "Sure, we all missed you. What, you didn't get the fruit basket I sent?" He asked, slowly pacing in a circle to watch all angles. "Now, would you mind telling me where you put my partner?"

 _"And spoil the twist ending to our great performance?"_ A loud _whirr_ sounded above Dick and he looked up to see a metal box descend from the darkness of the ceiling into the light, suspended by a large chain. He stepped back, preparing to catch - or avoid - whatever was inside.

"What makes you think I want to perform for you?" Dick yelled, maintaining his cool as best he could.

 _"I did go through so much trouble to get you here, didn't I? Stealing your bird and getting my boys to cause a ruckus across town for the Bat to go chase down. The least you could do is stick around for the show!"_ It said with a cackle.

 _"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, Joker productions is proud to present, for one night only, the glorious return of the one, the only, the Flying Graysons!_ _ **Hahaha!**_ _"_ The metal box opened with a loud _clang_ and what looked like pounds of dirt poured out.

 _Thunk. Thunk._ Two objects fell from the box, smacking the dirt mound and making a small cloud. Dick shook his head, dropping his escrima and rushing to the spot.

Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of two decomposing bodies, each wearing tattered red-and-yellow uniforms, sprawled messily across the dirt mound.

All the while, the clown couldn't stop laughing.

 **/**

 **AN: Early update. To be continued in one week.**


	3. Chapter 3

Dick's face contorted itself, veins on his forehead popping as an expression of rage and horror spread across it. "How did you…" He said softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the husks that were once his parents. "Why did you…"

 _"You act as though it were difficult, birdbrain. As for the why…"_ It hissed _. "Well, I had to punish the Bat for burying me in the dungeon. And he doesn't respond to torture or pain, no no, you've got to hit Him where it_ _ **hurts**_ _. What better way than to take his favorite son and reunite him with his real family?"_ It went on, barely contained glee behind every syllable that leaked out of its putrid mouth.

"Monster." Dick growled, hands balled into tight fists.

 _"Rude. I'm doing you a favor, Nightwing. I'm giving you the one thing He never did. Closure!"_ It cackled. _"Now, for Act two!"_

Another mechanical _whirr_ came, followed by a long, sustained _hiss._ Nightwing sniffed the air. Was that…

His eyes widened, and despite every muscle in his body pulling him toward his parents, he stood up and ran for the wall of the pit in a mad dash to escape.

 _"Do me a favor, Dicky-boy. When you get to Hell, do give Mr. and Mrs. Grayson my regards!_ _ **Hahaha!**_ _"_

 _Click._

 _ **Fwoom**_ _._

Citizens of Gotham high-rise apartments looked out their windows to see a sixty-foot plume of flame and smoke consume the Big Top on Amusement Mile, sending ash and cinder soaring across the boardwalk, small black and gray flakes dancing around the crystal white of the snow already falling.

 **/**

 **"** What did you _do!?_ " Tim screamed, wrists bleeding from rubbing raw on the ropes that bound him as he struggled to get loose.

The Joker turned from his computer to face Tim. The clown almost couldn't believe it either - Nightwing was dead, and it had barely had to lift a finger. The ever-present deranged smile seemed to stretch even further, yellowed teeth and red gums fully visible.

"It seems like I've opened a job for you, Robin. Really you should be grateful. Not a lot of options for advancements in your career."

Tears streamed from Tim's eyes, his face reddened with fury. "I'm gonna make you pay for this, you fucking monster. You hear me?" He screamed.

Joker strolled over, humming a tune, and planted his foot squarely in Tim's chest, pushing the chair he was in backwards and making Tim collide with the floor. It reached down and grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and Tim out of the ware through a back door. Tim scanned the outside of the ware, looking for any identifiable landmarks that would let him figure out where he was.

"You've served your usefulness, runt." Joker growled. Tim smelled water and smoke.

 _Must be riverside. Good._ Tim thought. _If I can just ditch these restraints, I can get back to the cave no problem._

The Joker dragged him to the side of a metal guardrail at the edge of the Gotham river. "Now scram!" He said with a cackle, tipping the chair over the edge and plunging Tim into the ice-cold water, wrists still bound.

Tim held his breath as he smacked the water, wincing at the biting temperature on his raw wrists. His training had prepared him for something like this, but he knew even on his best day he'd only be able to hold his breath for a minute and a half, and the kick to his chest hadn't been kind to him. He immediately set to work on the knots. _Yes!_ He thought as he finally managed to free his right hand. Just as he'd hoped, the water had loosened the knots just enough for him to have a shot at undoing them, and he frantically began working on his left. _Damn it Tim, come on, come on… Got it!_

Hands now free, he pushed off the chair, sending it and the rope floating downstream, and swam like mad for the surface, popping above the freezing water and making for the shore, pulling himself up and over another guardrail and collapsing onto the paved ground, gasping for air. Tim knew he would need a moment to get his energy back. After that, contact Oracle and Bruce and figure out... whatever the next phase of this is.

 **/**

"Dick? Dick, pick up!" Barbara said, almost pleadingly. "Come on, say something. Anything."

"Mom?" _Cough, cough._ "Six o'clock already?" Replied a familiar voice, feebly.

"Dick! Thank god. I picked up the explosion on the cams, I thought…" She trailed off. "Are you okay?"

Dick stood with a grimace, his suit tattered and burned and covered in ash. One of his gauntlets had nearly melted from the heat, but lucky for him, he'd managed to avoid too many serious burns. "Think so. Biometrics saying anything different?"

"It doesn't look _great_ , I'll be honest, but nothing we can't patch up." She bit her lip. "I wasn't just asking about your vitals. I… I saw what happened, Dick. Are you _okay_?"

Dick grimaced. "I'm fine."

Barbara opened her mouth to question him, but was interrupted by a loud ringing noise - the emergency phone was ringing. She picked it up without hesitation, and a young boy's voice greeted her.

 _"Hello, Barbara?"_

"Tim! Dick, I've got Tim on the line. He's alright! Where are you, Tim?" Barbara asked, relief flooding over her.

 _"Industrial district, I think. Joker tried to send me down the river tied to a chair. I dragged myself out. Got lucky to find a payphone with coins by it."_

"Are you hurt?"

 _"Not badly. He only wanted to use me as bait for Dick. Stole the tracking chip off my mask and planted it somewhere in Amusement Mile. Is he…?"_

"Yes, he's fine, thank goodness. Do you have any idea where Joker could be now?"

 _"He can't be too far. He was hiding in an old Sionis ware. Made himself some kind of ramshackle headquarters there. Want me to try and chase him?"_

"Absolutely not." She said, scanning the number to find the payphone Tim called from. "I'm dispatching the Batwing to your location."

Tim was about to argue, but the bruise on his chest and his bloody wrists talked him into staying. "Understood. Robin out." _Click._

Barbara turned her attention back to Nightwing. "Dick, you've gone quiet. Everything okay?" She asked, but received no reply. In fact, Dick's communicator seemed to be off entirely. She checked her map. He was moving, and fast, too. It looked like a beeline straight to the industrial district. "Dick, you're in no shape to go clown-hunting alone! Let Bruce help!" She said, still receiving no answer. "Damn it, Dick." She muttered, calling Batman as quickly as she could.

 **/**

"Bruce? It's me."

"Oracle. Talk to me, I'm nearly at Amusement Mile."

"It was a trap. Joker dropped Dick's parents bodies on him and lit up the Big Top with them inside. He got out, but he's headed for the industrial district to hunt down Joker himself."

Bruce's face paled, but he kept composed. "And Tim?"

"Alive and well. Batwing is already en route to collect him. But you need to get to Dick before he gets himself hurt, or worse."

"Understood. Send the Batmobile. I won't get there in time on foot like this."

"Already ahead of you there. It's moving to you as we speak. And Bruce? You be careful too. It's nearly Christmas. I expect all of my family to make it back in one piece in time to open gifts."

"No promises." Bruce said gruffly. "Batman out."

 **/**

Joker's ghostly white face was illuminated by the screens of the computers in the little "home base" it had created. The clown was busy at work destroying any evidence it had been there, currently pouring bleach all over the computers and devices it had rigged up for its deathtraps. _Glug, glug, glug_.

For once, everything had gone according to plan. No Batman punching its teeth into its throat, no policemen trying to cuff it. The plan had worked out. Joker wins, and it was simply beside itself with glee. It tossed the now-empty bleach bottle aside and went to grab a petrol can when a rod-shaped object sailed through the darkness and hit it in the eye, knocking it to the floor.

"Ugh!" Joker cried out, searing pain shooting through its head. "Who on _earth…_ "

Nightwing stepped out of the darkness, the red highlights in his costume reflecting brightly in the light of the screen.

"You! You're supposed to be _dead,_ damn it!" Joker said, drawing a gun from within its jacket only to have the weapon knocked from its hands with a batarang. The clown crawled back in momentary shock. Nightwing advanced, walked toward Joker until he had it backed against the wall.

Joker sneered. "What are you gonna do, huh? Throttle me a little? Threaten me? Nothing Bats hasn't done."

Nightwing said nothing. He clicked a switch on his escrima, sparks flying off the end as the electrified tip sprung to life. He reared his arm back and swiped, Joker yelping as the stick collided with its face, scattering teeth to the floor and bloodying his nose.

The clown spat blood. "T-that all you got?"

Nightwing reared back. Struck. Blood sprayed to the floor, and the smell of searing flesh floated up to his nostrils from a burn mark he'd inflicted with the taser end.

Joker's eyes widened in fear. "You're… you're seriously going to do it. Aren't you?"

 _Smack. Smack. Smack._

Joker began to laugh. "I still won. I still won, Bats." It said through broken teeth.

 _Smack. Smack. Smack._

The clown kept laughing.

 _Smack. Smack. Smack._

The laugh became a gurgle.

 _Smack. Smack._ _ **Smack.**_

The gurgle became silence. Where once a ghastly face had been there remained only bruising and blood, busted lips curled into an eternal wide grin. Bloodred eyes rolled backward.

Batman burst through the backdoor of the warehouse, but he was too late. The damage was done. The clown was dead.

Nightwing began to laugh.

 **/**

 **AN: As usual, update in one week.**


	4. Chapter 4

" _Good evening, Gotham. Vicki Vale here, reporting live from the Gotham City Police Department's headquarters, where I have just received some chilling news. The self-proclaimed "Clown Prince Of Crime", the Joker, is dead._

 _"Commissioner James Gordon held a press conference here just moments ago, during which he confirmed that the body of the supervillain was brought to the front steps of the GCPD headquarters early this morning, although he could not disclose at this time who delivered the Joker or, indeed, what the cause of death was, promising to deliver more details as they became available._

 _"Gordon went on to advise citizens of Gotham to be cautious in the coming weeks, anticipating a crime wave as various groups move in on what was previously the Joker's territory. We will continue to bring updates as this story develops. Until then, Gotham, I wish you a safe afternoon. Vicki Vale, Channel One News."_

 _Click._ Jason Todd shut off the television, rubbing his temples. He'd already heard the news, of course, anyone who had any connection to the Bat had.

Tim was the one who broke the news to him first. They had kept correspondence ever since Jason had left Gotham, which Jason was thanking his lucky stars for now. There were a million different tall tales of how it happened already circulating through every criminal network, so it was good to have the real story right off the bat for once, rather than going around bars and trying to piece it together himself.

He was legitimately shocked when Tim first told him. Of all of them, he'd never have pegged Grayson to be the one to finally do the deed. He'd assumed either himself or Bruce would end up finishing off the clown, not that he was exactly torn up about it. If anything, he felt relieved by the removal of that evil that had previously loomed over them at all times.

At the same time, though, he was concerned for Dick. He was many things, but never a killer. Jason knew the thoughts that must be going through his head, that deadly fusion of guilt and vindication that came along with the death of a monster like that.

That was his primary motivation for returning to Gotham, where he had holed himself up in a cheap motel on the north side of the city, that and some personal business. He wanted to see the body for himself. He needed to know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that the Joker really was dead.

And then he intended to steal the corpse and torch it once and for all.

 **/**

"Master Bruce?"

"Alfred." Bruce spun in his chair to face his butler, turning his attention away from the massive viewscreen of the Bat-computer. Nearly every window was filled with news stations, each reporting on the Joker's death. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to check in, sir. See how you're faring. I know a lot has happened in these past twelve hours. I'd hardly be doing my job were I not here for you now."

"I'm fine, Alfred." Bruce said, his face practically a steel wall. He kept his composure, but Alfred knew him far too well to buy his facade. He put his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Of course you are. When aren't you?" He said sarcastically. "Have you heard from master Dick since last night?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not a peep ever since he ran from the warehouse. I've kept every channel open. Even monitored Oracle's and Robin's to be sure." He sighed. "I'm sure he'll come back when he's ready. He's strong, Alfred. He can handle himself." Bruce turned back to his screens. "I can't waste time worrying. Right now, I need to be prepared for the aftermath of this."

Alfred's face fell. "Sir, I think master Dick may need you more than Gotham does at this point in time."

Bruce cast a glance over his shoulder. "Trust me, Alfred. I know Dick better than most. He's got friends. If he needs them, or me, he'll reach out. But if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be.

"Sir…" Alfred objected, but stopped himself and turned away. "Very well. If you think that's best." He walked away slowly, half-heartedly hoping Bruce would change his mind. But he never looked back.

 **/**

Dick sat on the rooftop ledge of Gotham Central Bank, watching as the sun slowly dipped down below the horizon. The events of the previous night haunted him. He hadn't been able to sleep all day. Hell, he'd barely been able to stop moving all day, as though if he kept running he'd be able to get away from what he'd done.

The smell of the Joker's seared flesh still stuck to his nose. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't want to go home. He didn't want to do anything but keep running until his feet bled and he couldn't run anymore.

Dick stood up, taking a deep breath as the air began to turn even colder, a large cloud of white expelled from his mouth as he exhaled. _Guess I'll just keep going, then._

He took his grapnel and fired across to a higher rooftop. He swung, aiming for a balcony just underneath. His feet left the ground and the grapnel _zzzzipped_ as it pulled him toward it.

 _ **Bang.**_

A bullet whizzed through the chill night air, and time seemed to slow for Dick as it ripped the fibers of his grapple-cable apart.

 _Snap._

He careened toward the earth, head smacking a fire escape - _bong -_ and knocking him out cold as his limp body hit pavement.

Hands wrapped around his ankles and dragged him off into a dark alley, where he was tossed roughly into the back of a black SUV that swiftly peeled off.

The only hint that anyone had been there was the grapnel gun, snapped cable and all, lying on the pavement and glistening in the moonlight.

 **/**

 **AN: Early again. Update in one week.**


	5. Chapter 5

_Click._

 _Creak._

A large metal door deep within the GCPD morgue slowly swung open, gradually bathing the morgue with dim fluorescent light. The intruder creeped silently through the doorway, shutting the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. Producing a flashlight from his belt, he quickly went to the drawers, checking the labels for…

"There you are, you bastard."

'John Doe', the label said, but Jason Todd knew exactly who was inside. He reached for the latch, but before he could open it, a hand shot from the darkness, grasping his wrist and yanking it away. Jason went for his gun and aimed his flashlight at his sudden guest, the beam revealing a pointed cowl and a gaze that would have made a lesser man soil himself.

"Bruce."

"Jason."

"Nice to see you. How's the family?"

"Don't play dumb. I know why you're here, Jason." Bruce growled, cape drawn around him like a funeral shroud. "I've been tracking you since you arrived in Gotham."

"Fantastic, then you'll agree that what I'm doing is necessary. Now step aside," Jason said. "And let me finish the job that Dick started."

Bruce took a step forward, creating a barrier between the drawer containing the Joker and Jason. "I can't let you do that. You know that's not the way we operate. What Dick did was regrettable, but we do this by the book. Work on getting positive ID for him. Let the police do their work."

"Damn it, Bruce, we both know anything could happen by the time they're done. That monster could come back from the dead yet again and bust out of here with some nerve gas pill hidden in his teeth." Jason hissed, leveling his pistol at Bruce's head. "So move, and I will do what needs to be done."

Bruce's expression stayed stoic as he looked down the barrel of the gun. "No, Jason." He answered. "Listen. If you pull that trigger, you don't walk out of this building, not without a fight, and certainly not with this body in tow. Understood?"

There was a tense moment as the pair locked eyes before Jason finally lowered the pistol with a gruff sigh. "Fine. You want to risk it? That's on you." He holstered his weapon. "At least… At least let me see the body. So I know for sure that he's not getting up."

Bruce hesitated, but decided it was a fair bargain and nodded. He flipped the overhead lights on. "The damage was… considerable. But it's him."

"Just open the damn thing. Get it over with."

He turned the latch, sliding the drawer open.

The drawer was empty, save for a note inside.

"What the hell?" Bruce said, aghast. Jason roared in anger.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it. This is on your head, Bruce." He spat, slamming his fist into the wall.

Bruce said nothing, pulling tweezers from his belt and carefully extracting the note.

[ _Missing something, detective? All will be clear in time. Revealed like clearing fog. Only we can see through that mist. Never fear. I'll be in touch._ ]

Jason stared at Bruce. "Well? What is it?"

"An obvious clue." He answered, snapping a photo of the note and uploading it to the Batcomputer. "Oracle," He said, now addressing his radio, "Put out a warning to all law enforcement in the Gotham area. The Joker's body is missing. This note was left in his place."

 _"Jesus. Okay, doing that now. What's our next step?"_ She answered.

"Tell Tim to continue patrol. We need someone watching the streets. I'm going to follow up on the lead that was just handed to me." He said, pocketing the note.

"What lead?" Jason asked, frustrated. "What does it say?"

 _"Is that…?"_

"Yes." Bruce interrupted. "He's coming with me."

"Coming where?"

"We're paying Sal Maroni a visit." Bruce answered, slamming the empty drawer shut.

 **/**

Dick Grayson came to in a grassy field, eyes fluttering open to blue sky and white clouds. "What the-" He exclaimed, sitting up quickly and checking his head. Last he remembered, he had made a nasty impact with a fire escape, but now there was no mark. Come to think of it, he wasn't even wearing his suit, but his normal plainclothes. "Where am I?"

"Dick?" Said a voice behind him. "Are you okay?" He turned around to see a pretty redheaded woman walking toward him, adorned in a flowing yellow dress.

"Barbara? But you… You're standing." He stammered.

"Uh… Yeah? I can walk, too. Run, even, if I feel like it. Funny how legs work." She said, rolling her eyes at him. "Come on, there's something I wanna show you!" She said, pulling Dick to his feet.

"I don't understand, Babs." He said as she yanked him away.

"That's alright!" She said, smiling at him. "Just run with it, birdbrain." They came upon what looked like a huge chasm in the ground.

"What is this?" Dick asked, peering over the edge.

"What, you don't remember? You dug it yourself!" She said with a giggle.

She kept giggling as Dick looked over the edge, hearing something that sounded like flies buzzing. A putrid smell hit his nose as he saw the pit was filled with bodies, ranging from recently deceased to rotting corpses and bones, each of them wearing a costume of some kind.

"Jesus!" He yelled, recoiling. Barbara's giggle became a chuckle, that became a guffaw, that became a mad, wicked laughter.

"Don't act so high and mighty, Dickie-boy! You made your bed!" Barbara said, her face contorted into a manic grin that split her cheeks open. Her face went white. Her eyes went red. Dick screamed.

 _"Now lie in it! Hahahaha!"_ She cackled as she shoved Dick into the pit, screaming as he fell into the mass of bodies.

 **/**

Harley Quinn cackled, clapping her hands in delight as the body of Nightwing thrashed around in front of her, suspended in green light, a look of agony on his face. Small monitors read out his vitals, most of which were in the red already.

"Oh, wow!" She said, wiping a tear away. "When you said you knew just how to avenge Mr. J, I almost didn't believe ya!" She said, turning to a tall man wearing a swirling black-and-orange suit. "You were worth every penny I paid ya, fer sure!"

The man nodded. "Of course. I promised the best. I always deliver."

"I'll say." Harley agreed. "This twerp deserves every last bit of torture he gets."

"Not to worry," He answered. "My virtual reality chamber will trap him in a cycle of psychological torture. By the time he could even dream of escape, the levels of serotonin in his brain will have risen to a deadly amount. Nightwing will spend the rest of his days in a vegetative state."

Harley applauded him. "Ah, Mista S, it's just perfect."

"I couldn't agree more." Spellbinder answered, grinning beneath his mask.

 **/**

 **AN: Update in a week. Reviews are always appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

The Batmobile sped through the streets of Gotham, its occupants staring ahead in silence.

Jason was the first to break it.

"You're taking all of this too well." He said, his voice even. Bruce made no effort to respond. "I mean, your nemesis either dead or mortally wounded, your favorite child gone AWOL… I'd expect a little emotion, even from you."

Bruce said nothing, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Jason shrugged.

"Whatever. You still haven't told me what Sal Maroni has to do with any of this."

"The note back at the morgue." Bruce finally spoke up. "Capital letters spelled out M-A-R-O-N-I."

Jason groaned. "Seriously? _That's_ our clue? Does that not seem a little… basic, compared to your usual fare? Is the Riddler doing children's books now?"

"I don't know, but unless you have a better idea, it's what we have to go on." Bruce snapped. "All I have to go on is a missing body, a note with no trace of prints or DNA, and a clue that's more than likely a trap. But right now, a lead is a lead. Is that clear?"

Jason raised his hands sarcastically. "Alright, alright, damn. Sorry for questioning you, Dad."

Bruce growled. "We're here."

 **/**

The neon sign bearing the name "Maroni's" glowed bright red against the snowy air of Gotham as the pair slunk around to the back of the building and stepped quietly through the back door. In the restaurant's storeroom, a group of men in suits sat around a table, filling the air with smoke from their cigarettes and cackling.

"Permission to go loud?" Jason whispered. Bruce nodded begrudgingly. Jason grinned.

 _ **Bang.**_ Plaster rained from the newly-made hole in the ceiling above the gangsters' table. They whirled around to see a man in a leather jacket and bright red helmet, pistol in each hand.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. Any of you seen Sal Maroni lately?"

 **/**

Spellbinder sat at his monitor, watching Nightwing thrash about as his machines collected all the information from his dreams. He couldn't help but crack a smile at his good fortune. The things he could find out just by probing this child's mind could make him the most valuable information broker in Gotham City. This, of course, was hardly his primary objective. A nice bonus, at most.

His true plans were much, much further reaching than that.

 **/**

 **AN: Haha whoa it's been awhile huh, my bad. Sorry this one's short, just wanted to get something up! Big update in a week, for real this time!**


	7. Chapter 7

Tim swung down from a tall building in the Bowery, the air chilling him to the bone despite his suit's internal warmers. He'd heard the news about Jason's return to Gotham… and the disappearance of the Joker's body.

He wasn't sure if it was the snow or his thoughts that had him shivering. He heard a buzz over his communicator.

" _Tim?"_

"I hear you, Barbara. Is there trouble?"

" _Actually, nothing. Every channel's been almost 'too' quiet. I thought Joker dying would bring about Hell on earth or something, but… all I've got is silence."_

Tim grimaced. "As much as I hate to admit it, I agree." He answered, perching on a balcony. "We should be hearing about gangs moving in on Joker territory, or trying to take his place, or _something_. It's like everyone is pretending he never left."

" _From the sound of things, he may not have."_

Tim shook his head. "Surely that's impossible. Bruce said he saw the body. Ran every diagnostic he knew, and that's a _lot_. If he's confident enough to say the Joker is dead, I'm inclined to believe him. No matter how crazy it sounds." He climbed down from the balcony, turning into an alley. "Listen, I'm nearly done with my patrol route. I'm rounding the Bank n…"

He trailed off as something caught his eye, glinting in the moonlight. _Oh, please don't be what I think you are._ He thought as he approached it and knelt down, pulling it out of the snow.

A grapnel gun, with a snapped cord and a familiar red insignia emblazoned on the side.

" _Tim? Everything okay?"_

"No, not really. Change of plan. I'm coming home now. We have a problem." He said, hooking Dick's gun to his belt before zipping away on his own.

 **/**

Bruce and Jason exited Maroni's, the groans of injured mobsters echoing like a chorus behind them.

"That didn't take much." Jason said, cracking his neck and holstering his guns. "So Maroni's in Bludhaven. We taking a road trip?"

"Seems that way." Bruce muttered, walking alongside Jason to the Batmobile.

Jason nodded. "It doesn't make sense, though. Why would one of Gotham's biggest criminals take a trip like that and not tell any of his men why? Not only that, why would he go alone?"

Bruce thought a moment. "Maybe he's being threatened. Or blackmailed. Wouldn't help his image to tell his cronies that he's not the one in charge."

The pair reached the Batmobile, Bruce trying to open it to no avail.

"What's the issue?" Jason asked.

Bruce checked his communicator and datapad, both deactivated. "My electronics are down. Some kind of short range jammer. We should find cover."

"Cover?" Jason asked as Bruce tackled him to the ground, a bullet hitting the ground behind them and producing a puff as snow flew up from the impact. The two crawled behind the Batmobile. Jason pulled a small mirror from his belt and angled it so they could see their would-be assailant. A figure was crouched in a fourth-story window, one bright-red eye standing out from their mostly-black silhouette.

"Deadshot." They said in unison. Bruce produced his grapnel from its pouch while Jason unholstered his pistols and flipped off the safeties, earning a glare.

"What? It's Deadshot, he's got body armor." He said. "On three?"

Bruce nodded.

"One… Two… Three!"

The pair ran out from opposite sides of the car, Jason taking potshots at Deadshot's position. The assassin crouched calmly as bullets ricocheted around him. He steadied his rifle for another shot at Jason, who had taken cover behind a dumpster to the left of his position.

 **Clink.**

Bruce zipped up the side of the building, his grapnel hook attached right below Deadshot's position. Right at the apex of the climb, he unhooked it, sending him up and above the assassin, falling into him and tackling him to the ground.

"Did you get him?" Jason yelled up from the street. Bruce appeared in the window, holding Deadshot out of it by the neck. "Oh. Okay, cool."

"Who hired you?" Bruce asked as Deadshot's feet dangled over the sidewalk.

Deadshot laughed. "Now why would I tell you that?"

"Because I'll break every bone in your body if you don't."

"You don't scare me. I'm not working for money anymore. I'm doing work for a higher power." Deadshot answered, gasping as Bruce's grip tightened.

"If you found religion, Floyd, you sure missed the message."

"Not _that_ higher power. Something far greater." Deadshot hissed.

"Tell me who!" Bruce growled.

"Don't you worry, you'll find out soon enough." Deadshot pulled a knife from his belt and stabbed it into Bruce's arm, causing him to cry out and loosen his grip. Deadshot wrenched free and careened toward the ground, hitting the sidewalk with a sickening _slap._

"Jesus." Jason ran to his contorted body and looked up at Bruce, staring down at the sidewalk in disbelief and clutching his wound.

 **/**

Barbara shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. The Batcave felt huge and empty, even with Ace's sleeping body lying next to her. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and yelped, reaching to slap it away before she realized who it belonged to.

"Miss Gordon?" Alfred said softly. "I've brought you some tea. I can leave it on the table, if you'd prefer…"

Barbara sighed. "No, no, it's fine. Thank you, Alfred. Really." She said, taking the cup from him with a soft smile. "It's just been a… stressful few days."

"I believe that's putting it lightly." Alfred answered, kneeling down to pet Ace on the head, earning a sigh from the sleeping dog. "Have you heard from master Bruce?"

"Not since he left with Jason. I tried to reach him to tell him about Dick's gun, but I haven't heard back." She said, eyes fixated on her screens as she sipped her tea. "I hope he's being safe, at least."

Alfred nodded. "If there's one thing we know about Bruce and Jason, it's their legendary sense of caution." He said. The pair looked at each other and couldn't help but crack a smile.

 **Crack.**

 **Fwoom.**

Without warning, the Cave lit up, with a flash and a crack like lightning, and the pair whirled around to see a thin pillar of light at the base of the steps, fading away as quickly as it had appeared.

Standing before them was a thin figure, wearing what looked like a full-body Batsuit, with a dark red logo across the chest and tall ears. He looked up at them and frowned.

"Aw, slag it."

 **/**

 **AN: Yes, it's who you think it is. Double update tonight, next chapter coming soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

The alarm bells of the Neo-Gotham Depository rang out into the night. A group of guards were tied up outside, stripped to their underwear and gagged with duct tape. Inside, the Jokerz were having a field day, emptying credit chits into a large crate.

A fat man dressed in a pink unitard jumped up onto a teller's desk, his garish plastic clown mask glinting in the bright lights of the bank. "Alright boys and girls, let's wrap it up already! The cops are gonna be here in five!" He yelled, his machine gun leveled at the door. A young man in a scarecrow costume rolled his eyes as he rifled through teller's drawers.

"Banks don't open till nine, Chucko." A deep voice came from the rafters. "Couldn't wait a few hours to make a withdrawal?" The clown gripped his gun tighter and aimed it skyward just in time for a pair of boots to collide with his head, sending him to the ground. Ghoul yelped and pulled a bomb from his bag, tossing it at the new arrival, who dodged it effortlessly, leaping toward him with outstretched wings and body-checking him in the gut. He rolled into a desk and crumpled into a heap, groaning in pain. Batman landed on the floor and steadied himself.

Two redheaded girls rounded the corner from the vault, grinning. "The pest problem in Gotham has gotten just _awful,_ Dee-Dee." Said one. "Couldn't agree more, Dee-Dee." Said the other. They produced stun batons from behind their backs and rushed Batman, who ran and slid under the two, extending his wings so as to knock them both to the floor. They cried out and slammed their chins into the linoleum, leaving them woozy. Batman turned and grinned at the four unconscious bodies before him.

"That seemed… too easy." He said, his grin fading. He touched a finger to his temple. "Bruce, I'm at the Depository. It was the Jokerz. They went down quick."

" _They usually do."_ Said a gruff voice from the other end of his communicator. _"They've been strung out ever since losing Bonk."_

Batman frowned as he tied his foes' bodies up tight. "Yeah. Right." He said, dragging the villains toward the entrance. "Still, this seems pretty weak, even for them. Normally I have to put more effort into it. You don't think they could have been acting as a distraction or something?"

" _If they were trying to distract us from something, they would have put up a better fight. My scanners aren't picking up anything. Maybe you're finally becoming as paranoid as me."_

"Oh, we can only hope." He replied, rolling his eyes beneath his cowl. "Maybe if I'm lucky I'll- _gah_!" He cried out as he suddenly felt claws tearing into his leg. _Woof. I always forget about Woof._ He thought, grimacing and striking with a fierce downward blow that sent the security guard reeling across the floor, his electro-baton skittering away from his outstretched…

 _Security guard?_

Batman looked down to see that where once there had been the Jokerz, there were now four more guards tied up with his cables. Bruce's voice cried in his ear.

" _Terry! TERRY! He's getting away!"_

"Ah, slag it." Terry muttered, dropping the guards and activating his jets, flying swiftly out the door of the Depository. No guards tied up outside. Figures. "Bruce." He said, speaking into his communicator. "I'm back. I'm guessing we already know who's behind this."

" _You'd guess right. Southwest. Go."_

Terry took off with no hesitation and immediately saw his target in a hovertruck, swerving through oncoming traffic. He flew above the truck and folded his wings in, freefalling until he could sink the claws of the Batsuit into the roof, grabbing on with both hands and dangling precariously off the back. Grunting and grimacing, he began to crawl towards the cab of the truck.

"Think he noticed?" Terry asked sarcastically, just as the truck jerked suddenly to the right, sending him reeling to the side, hanging by one hand.

" _There's your answer. Take this seriously."_ Bruce answered grimly.

Terry used the momentum of being swung to his advantage, twisting his body around and managing to sink his claws into the passenger side door, tearing it open with a mighty heave. He grinned.

"Looks like I'm in-" He started, before another jerk of the truck flung him away from the side, nearly flying off the truck had he not managed to catch himself on the now-open door. He looked down to see his feet dangling over a fifty-foot drop down to the next level of traffic. Raising his head, he saw the driver - Spellbinder, of course.

Terry swung his legs back and forth, gaining just enough momentum to jump into the cab of the truck and take a swing at Spellbinder with his left hand, his right reaching for the steering wheel. Spellbinder moved his head just in time to avoid Terry's strike, but couldn't stop him from getting his hands on the steering wheel, sending the hovertruck sailing away from traffic and into open air. Terry went for another strike, but felt a sudden pain jolting his stomach muscles and causing him to spasm. Spellbinder pulled the electrobaton he had hidden away from Terry's stomach and struck him again, nailing him in the neck and causing him to spasm again before a final smack sent Terry straight out of the open truck door and through a skyscraper window, skidding along the ground, his Batsuit's reactive armor turning red with every bump and scrape. He looked up to see the hovertruck peeling off into the night. Terry made to stand, but collapsed, exhausted and battered.

 **/**

Terry entered the Batcave, head hung. "Bruce, I'm back. Did you manage to figure out where Spellbinder went?" He asked loudly, to no answer. "Bruce?" He said cautiously, moving to the Batcomputer, where he saw Bruce staring at the screens. He put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce whirled around, his nose red with dried blood. Terry recoiled. "Bruce! Are you alright?"

Bruce shook his head. "How did the Joker die, Terry?"

"... What?"

"Answer me! How did the Joker die?" Bruce asked, eyes wide.

Terry swallowed nervously. "Dick Grayson electrocuted him. You told me yourself." He said, sniffling. He smelled iron.

Bruce shook his head. "Damn it." He said, sighing deeply. "That's not how I remembered it. I thought I had fought him to the death underground. But look." He turned back to his keyboard and brought up a file. Old CCTV footage of an abandoned warehouse. Tim Drake shooting the Joker with his own flag gun. The memories came flooding back to Terry.

"No way…" Terry said. "No way we both remembered that wrong. Not something that important."

Bruce frowned. "It's not just this, Terry. Who was Jason Todd?"

Terry paused. "The second Robin. Got killed by the Joker…" He wiped his nose, fingers coming away red.

"That's what I thought too. But I looked up the name. No Jason Todd ever lived in Gotham City. None of his gear is here in the cave. Nothing."

"Oh..." Terry said. "Is someone messing with our memories or something? Creating a fake past? Man, my nose is gushing..."

Bruce shook his head gravely. "No, Terry. I'm afraid it's nothing so simple." He said. "I think someone has tampered with the timeline."

Terry's mouth dropped open for a moment. "That's crazy. How would we know?"

"Think about it, Terry. These false memories, differing from person to person. Almost like we're feeling the effects of different timelines bleeding into our consciousness. Putting stress on the brain." He pointed to his nose. "Nosebleeds. Generally not caused by simply misremembering things."

"Okay. Sure." Terry said. "But how would we figure out who did that? And how would we even fix it?"

"I already thought of that." Bruce answered.

"Of course you did." Terry replied sarcastically. Bruce reached down and slid open a small compartment, producing two devices, each resembling small metal bracelets with a screen and dial. "What are those?"

"Gifts from one Mister Miracle. These will let anyone who wears them open a small boom tube to take them anywhere they want, including other timelines." He placed the bracelets in Terry's hands. "And you're going to use them to find whoever's tampered with the timeline."

Terry sputtered. "That's insane. We should call the League. This is way more their speed."

"And have even more people jumping around the timelines? Causing more ripples? We can't take that risk. Memories are already bleeding through. If more ripples find their way to our timeline, it could fracture, and then there's no telling what would happen." Bruce pointed down to the bracelets. "These have an autocalibration setting. They'll find any wounds in the timeline, and you'll jump straight there. Find the culprit, slap the second bracelet on them, and bring them home with you to our timeline."

"And after that?"

Bruce shrugged. "Either the timelines will correct themselves, or we'll have to sort it out after. No matter what, it's better to trap this person in one timeline than to have them out wrecking more. If you run into too much trouble, you can return at any time. Only then will we contact the League. Deal?"

"Bruce…" Terry sighed. "Fine. I'll give it my best shot." He took the bracelets from Bruce, attaching one to his wrist with a _clink_ and stashing the other in his utility belt _._ He checked the screen, and sure enough, it had located a wound in the timeline, and tracked where it had originated. "Earth-46, huh? Great. Traveling through time _and_ space." He muttered, pressed a button, and was swallowed up by a sphere of orange light, leaving Bruce alone in the Cave. He returned to his chair, sat down, and anxiously awaited Terry's return.


End file.
